


The Third Month's Plan

by Of_Princes_and_Savages



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-07
Updated: 2016-09-09
Packaged: 2018-08-13 13:01:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7977682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Of_Princes_and_Savages/pseuds/Of_Princes_and_Savages
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lacey's good time gets cut short, and she has to serve six months of community service. Which isn't nearly as hard as you would think, but she still has a challenge in the form of a hard-to-get pawnbroker...</p><p>Prompt: “If you don’t get turned on by having your neck kissed somethings wrong with you.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Lacey’s idea of a good time usually involved booze and somebody looking for a no-strings attached good time…usually. She did have standards. And one sort of wish-list target.

This time her good time had come with a serious drawback, though. Mistake number one was letting Keith lay hands on her, while he had the stamina of a prized stallion, Lacey always forgot how drunk and sleazy he was until he kept sniffing around for handouts when nobody else was interested. Mistake number two was getting into Keith’s car–which he crashed into the front of Mr. Gold’s Pawnshop.

_Shit…._

While Lacey wasn’t sure if it was Gold’s meddling or Regina’s, while Keith stewed in jail and had to pay a hefty fine for property destruction, Lacey was sentenced to community service as his passenger. Which would have been truly maddening _ **if**_ her sentence wasn’t six months of working for Mr. Gold…

Gold was the target on Lacey’s wish-list. He was richer than god but that hardly mattered, actually. The man had a presence that blew everyone else away as soon as he stepped into the room. And Lacey had either discovered a previous unknown set of Daddy Issues or realized she hung out with really low-class guys, because in that suit with that hair and that cane?

_Holy mother of God…_

Lacey figured working at the shop would be her one big chance at winning over Gold. He was unimpressed by her everywhere else, walking by without a second glance, or should she stop him, a blank look and grunted response before he walked away. So, strapping on her best heels each morning and wearing her usual skin-tight mini-dresses or tight jeans and cut-out blouses, Lacey showed up to work hoping today would be the day Gold at least gawked a little.

Only three months into the arrangement…and nothing.

There was a theory that Mr. Gold was gay, but that wouldn’t explain how he consistently looked the other way when she did something as innocuous as dust the shelves, without teasing. In month two, Lacey graduated from flirty clothes and bending over to teasing banter and drinking tea in the back room with him.

She learned two things: One, Gold was more than hot, he was brilliant and Lacey would miss having an intelligent conversational partner. Two, Gold did take notice when their fingers brushed because he got a touch flustered.

So, on the three month mark that was today, Lacey went in wearing a dark blue pencil skirt that was practically conservative for her, a white tank top under her leather jacket, red lipstick, and a plan based on one simple fact:

If you don’t get turned on by having your neck kissed, then something is wrong with you.

The trick was seizing the right moment. Gold was immune to her attempts at leaning over the counter so he could see down her shirt now, and Lacey was a little worried that she’d numbed him to her seduction game. (Which wasn’t a game anymore, because shockingly, she was really starting to like Gold and how he saw her as a person rather than legs and breasts and a red mouth.) But when she shrugged out of her jacket, she distinctively saw Gold’s eyes widen before he turned to his paperwork on the desk.

Good, he was interested after all…

Lacey spent the day puttering around until lunch, minding her own business for a change. She noticed he kept looking in her direction, out the corner of her eye. But Lacey stuck to her plan, and when she came back from Granny’s with a paper bag, he was almost relaxed. Gold was boxing up a necklace Mary-Margaret had dropped off, carefully laying it into a velvet lined box.

And Lacey couldn’t help but wonder if he’d put her to bed that carefully. Which was a little funny because she didn’t have much experience in a real bed, usually content with a wall or the Rabbit Hole’s sink or a backseat. But Gold was classy, and she didn’t want his ankle getting in the way so it was for the best they do it somewhere comfortable…if her plan worked.

He was so focused on the necklace that Lacey knew this was the perfect moment and she wandered over behind his chair, placing her hands on his shoulders.

Gold didn’t have time to tense up before Lacey brushed her lips below his ear. He smelled really good, thought Lacey hadn’t gotten as much skin as she would have liked. Mostly his silver-threaded hair. Soft, oh-so-touchable hair. Mm.

His shoulders tensed beneath her hands, for a moment. Lacey pressed another kiss in the same place, indulging the need to nuzzle his hair, and was rewarded with a soft gasp.

Gold turned around, his dark eyes wide and searching. For a moment, he looked so much like a hopeful puppy Lacey wanted to scoop him up in her arms.

Then she was learning that Gold’s chair had wheels, because he pushed back and yanked her down on her lap all in the same moment, baring his teeth in a distinctively wolfish grin. Oh yes.

“Dearie,” he rumbled softly, pressing his face against her neck. “I’ve had just enough of your teasing. If you want the beast, I will _devour_ you.”

“What makes you think that’s not what I want?”

Gold moaned like she stabbed him, pressing soft, wet little kisses up her throat to her jaw. And Lacey grinned because she was right about the irresistibility of neck kisses.

And then Gold put his lips over hers and that was the last coherent thought they both had for a while…


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gold's POV of the first chapter...

Storybrooke was a sleepy little town that relied on gossip and hearsay to keep things interesting. And Lacey French was almost as popular a subject as he, Mr. Gold, was.

Especially when it came out that she'd been riding with Keith Noddingham when the bonehead drunkenly crashed into the front window of Gold's Pawnshop. Luckily, very little of the merchandise was damaged. Lacey was also fine beyond a bit of a scare, and Keith didn't-buckle-up-for-safety Noddingham broke his nose, but he'd live to drink another day. If Lacey had been killed in such a stupid accident, Gold might consider pressing every charge he legally could and seeing what stuck.

Because, while Gold wouldn't- _couldn't_ ,-admit it aloud, he was quite fond of Lacey...

The smallest woman in town with her heels off, Racy Lacey was even shorter than Gold was. Though she was much, much better-looking. She was pale and curvy in just the right places, with beautiful blue eyes and auburn hair, and wearing those heels and those tight or skimpy little outfits, she could have any man in Storybrooke on his knees. And, according to the rumor mill, she often did. However, Gold didn't put too much stock in gossip.

If Lacey really slept with anything that propositioned her, then Gold evicted people because he felt like it. Which he _didn't_. That was a rumor that got started because people who didn't pay their rent on time felt like they were owed something, even if it was just a petty whine about how they had to find someplace else to live.

It wasn't just fondness, surely, that made him see Lacey teased and turned down more men than she slipped out of The Rabbit Hole with, was it? Not that Gold could find the nerve to speak to Lacey. She was a brave, brassy little thing to be sure, because she was one of the few people in town that would look him in the eye, smile, and say, "How you doing today, Mr. Gold? Enjoying the lovely, overcast weather of Maine?"

To his regret, he could never respond properly. He always ended up freezing like a statue and muttering a brief reply, darting back to the safety of his shop. Or home. Wherever that too-brave, too-beautiful, too-fascinating Lacey was not.

He was inclined to simply focus on Keith when Sheriff Swan came around, but Lacey had been locked up too as Keith's unfortunate passenger. Swan had let Lacey go the next morning because, first off, Lacey wasn't going to skip town, try as she might. And secondly, Mayor Mills had descended upon the station and said that the worst the city could hit Lacey with was community service.

Regina and Gold had what could kindly be described as a complicated relationship. Sometimes they joined forces, other times they were at each other's throats. The difference between one mood or the other could literally hinge on what Regina had for breakfast that morning, Gold could swear it.

That day she seemed to be in a spiteful sort of mood, or perhaps she sensed the writhing butterflies in his gut from whenever Lacey was simply in the room. Either way, Regina swanned into Gold's shop, (ironically the door was perfectly intact, Keith hit the right-hand window,) all saccharine smiles as she made her decree for Lacey to spend six months of community service in his shop. Or, if he'd rather not have "that slutty little barfly with her fingers in the till," then Lacey could always go tend to some work with the nuns.

For a moment, Gold wondered why he hadn't thought of that. Six months of Lacey in his shop. Then he remembered he'd die of a heart attack, or embarrassment, should she parade about in those minidresses of hers with nobody else in the room but him. And Lacey had enough older perverts chasing after her like dogs in heat, he didn't want to be added to that list. On the other hand, it would be the same as throwing Lacey to the wolves to send her to Mother named-after-the-complex Superior. And six months was not the end of the world, it wasn't like she'd be living at his house.

So Gold agreed and signed the necessary paperwork, and Lacey French came in to work on Monday.

Wearing a pair of little high-waisted white shorts, tall black heels, and a black blouse that was cut like a perfectly conservative, loose-fitting blouse except for the crucial detail that it was completely sheer, enough that Gold could see the black racer-back bra underneath it. Shit. He spent most of his time trying not to look at Lacey, for fear of either starting to drool or saying something stupid or letting her catch him gawking at her lovely ass and perfect breasts.

_Shit!_

Gold was certain that karma had finally caught up to him, because this was a form of torture, surely. Lacey pranced about in heels that made her legs look amazing, (he'd never known he was a leg man before, nice, but very unhelpful,) and sexy little outfits that put everything on display. For the entire first month, Gold counted himself lucky for not being caught with a awkward boner any time someone entered the shop, because those definitely happened. Frequently. He also thanked god Lacey never saw them as he was usually sitting at his desk or workbench when it happened.

The last thing he wanted was for Lacey to catch him with a hard-on. She'd probably go straight down to The Rabbit Hole and laugh about it.

Or would she?

Because, in the second month, while Lacey's fashion didn't change so much, (it really was her style, so Gold couldn't say he expected a difference,) her attitude had. Earlier on she almost seemed to be baiting him, as no woman could possibly have to bend over that much. But now she was a bit calmer, although she still seemed to think he was funny.

Nobody thought Gold was funny. When he made mention to how it would be so much tidier if Killian Jones simply said, "I don't have your money this week because I wasted it on cheap liquor and loose women" rather than try to hassle for an extension, she had laughed. A genuine giggle. Gold couldn't remember ever making a woman giggle, he was officially in foreign, uncharted territory.

So why not ask if she'd like some tea? It had been a stumbling slip of the tongue but Lacey took the invitation happily, sitting on the edge of his workbench and sipping out of a cup. She sat like she belonged there and Gold couldn't disagree.

Lacey had more going for her than cheeky charm and a nice pair of legs though. The girl was hiding the most remarkable mind under that teased hair-do. She tried to act like she hadn't read them, but when she made a brief reference to Jules Verne, Gold called her on it, and something like an argument ensued over who was a proper science-fiction author: Jules Verne for 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea, or H.G. Wells for The Time Machine. It was only something like an argument because it was...playful, more than argumentative.

Gold was well and truly in deeper than even the Nautilus by that point, and helpless to do anything about it.

Two months passed, and then the third month began. The halfway point. Three more months and Lacey French would be out of his life like she was never even there, her community service complete, and they wouldn't have a reason to speak again. It was a disheartening thought, so Gold resolved to make the best of his allotted time left. Respectfully, of course.

Then Lacey showed up that morning in her usual cheap leather jacket and a slightly flimsy white tank top...and a nearly-knee-length navy blue pencil skirt.

Usually an absence of clothing caught a man's eye, but on Lacey, _more_ was a head-turner. Then she shed her jacket, looking for all the world to his eyes like a naughty little secretary with red-as-sin lips and smoky eyeshadow.

 _God_...she was too gorgeous to be trapped in this pawnshop with him.

He tried to focus on the last touches to a necklace Mary-Margaret dropped off. It would be done after lunch, though. He'd have to find something else to occupy his mind, or he'd fantasize about shoving that skirt up and having his wicked way with Lacey French on the cot right-That, yes, **that** was what he was trying to avoid, _goddammit_.

And for a while it worked. Lacey wasn't up to any of her usual teasing tricks; No nibbling on a pencil, no bending over, and she actually dusted without swinging her hips back and forth like a naughty thing. So he really had no excuse for ogling. But there wasn't even her usual "I know you want me" smile thrown his way. Part of Gold was relieved because his blood pressure was taking a serious hit these past three months...the rest of him felt sort of neglected.

Which was stupid, because he wasn't hers to neglect, he was her boss until she completed her service...

He'd just finished laying the finished necklace in the velvet-lined box it was dropped off in when a pair of hands gently touched his shoulders.

What--

Before Gold could turn around, there were plush, warm lips brushing underneath his ear and chills shooting up and down his spine. He'd almost bitten his tongue and he definitely shivered when Lacey pressed another kiss against his overheated skin, nuzzling his hair. Perfume wafted over his senses, smelling far sweeter and softer than to be expected from Racy Lacey, and Gold turned around, trembling like a leaf as he looked up at the kind-yet-wicked little smile curling that kissable mouth up.

_Did she...?_

_Could she...?_

Gold decided to hell with it; He shoved back in the rolling chair and yanked Lacey onto his lap, reveling in her warm weight against him. She was smiling like the cat that got the cream and he growled out, "

"What makes you think that isn't what I want?" she purred, a saucy little tilt of her head the final signal Gold didn't know he needed. She wanted him. She actually wanted him, it wasn't a game, it wasn't boredom, and if it was boredom he planned on remedying that situation swiftly.

But first...he had to kiss the lovely, pale column of her neck. Fair was fair...


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the end of this little Golden Lace tale, unless someone has another idea. Also, constructive criticism is appreciated because I'm not 100% on my smut writing skills. Enjoy!

It would have been nice to jump onto the cot like horny teenagers, in fact, Lacey would wager every romance novel heroine in her situation would've just torn Gold's flies open and let him have at it.

But life was more complicated than that--especially a life where Regina could stomp in the front and bellow for Gold _right this very minute now._

Gold erection died almost the minute Regina started shouting, and Lacey could empathize. She sat fixing her tank top and hair while Gold went to see what the mayor was crying about. So she didn't get laid right now, but that was okay.

Well not _okay_ , but Gold could make up for it soon.

Only once Regina was mollified, someone else came in, looking to pawn a watch. Then David Nolan came in to pick up his girlfriend's necklace, and asked about engagement rings. Lacey had never known the pawnshop to be so busy in one day, and she thought Nolan was very lucky one of them didn't try to beat him with Gold's cane before he wandered out the door after an hour.

The mood effectively dead, Lacey had a flash of panic that Gold wouldn't want anymore to do with her. They only had a half-hour before the shop closed, and it took three months to thaw Gold enough to make-out in the back room-

"Ah, Miss French?" Gold interrupted her impending fit with a light touch against her elbow. "Seeing as how...um...I mean if you would...if you'd like to, would you want to have dinner? With me, at my house?"

Yes, yes she would! Especially if he was dessert. Or an appetizer. Whichever, whatever, take her now please!

"Sure," she said aloud. "Sounds good."

Gold grinned shyly and he was back to being an adorable puppy. Lacey wondered if he'd like being scratched behind the ears. That could wait for experimentation later, for now, Gold closed up a bit early and drove them home in his Cadillac.

Lacey considered it proof of will that she didn't tease him on the drive there, but that didn't stop her from kissing his neck, plastered to his back, while he tried to unlock the front door to his big pink house. He nearly dropped his keys twice, and Lacey laughed when he grumbled about her being distracting...

Until he got them inside and pinned her to the door as it slammed shut, fusing their mouths desperately.

Appetizer. Definitely an appetizer.

* * *

They had barely made it to the sofa, bumping into furniture and nearly tipping a vase over, (Lacey had quick reflexes, she steadied it without Gold having to stop nibbling on her ear,) before Gold surrendered the idea of eating a respectable dinner before the shagging began.

And it sure as hell didn't help that when he fell onto the sofa, Lacey was on top, straddling his lap. She barely missed a beat before she wriggled her hips just so and Gold almost bit through his tongue.

He was fucked.

Lacey giggled charmingly, (had he said that out loud?) and cupped his face in her soft little hands. "You are so _cute_ ," she crooned. "Poor overwhelmed sweetheart, you want me to kiss it better?"

Her hands were tugging at his belt and Gold groaned, his head falling on the back of the sofa. He was going to die here. His obituary was going to read: **Mr. Gold, 50, died in his home last night from Lacey French's teasing and exquisite everything.** But what a way to go...however, very, very selfish.

Lacey was moving off of his lap, and Gold quickly grabbed her by the waist. "No," he ordered. "No, you're gonna stay right here. I want you just like this."

Lord, if she used her mouth on him he'd never last. Gold was a bastard in business, but he thought a lady should get her due in the bedroom. Or on a sofa. Whatever. His peculiar brand of chivalry seemed to charm Lacey, though.

She bit her plump red lip and studied him curiously, and whatever she saw, she liked, because then she was kissing his forehead in a surprisingly tender peck.

"Help me with this skirt?" she purred, standing up and turning around. Gold was about eye-level with her perfect little ass, and after a moment of gawking he noticed the zipper. It was one of those damnable skinny-tab zippers that took a bit of fumbling to grasp, but then the unzipping was easy, Lacey shimmying out with just a touch more shimmying than perhaps necessary. Not that Gold was complaining.

Surprisingly, Lacey's panties were rather conservative in cut...even though they were sheer white material that hid absolutely nothing from sight. She was waxed smooth, and Gold realized he was staring when she laughed softly and kissed the top of his head.

"You can touch me baby, c'mon..." she brought his hands to her hips, giving his hands a little reassuring pat.

Oh, Gold talked a good game about devouring her in the shop. But now? He was struggling to get his limbs to work, and it didn't occur to him that he was still practically dressed until Lacey loosened his tie and pulled it over his head.

Lacey hummed thoughtfully, then pulled the tie over her own head and took a step back. With a blue tie, her see-through underwear, that strap falling off the shoulder of her tank top, and her black heels, she looked like a naughty secretary in a dirty magazine. She grinned at whatever his response was and gave a little twirl.

"What do you think?"

* * *

Lacey had lots of men stare at her, but from Gold, it was more admiring than leering. She suspected he hadn't been with a woman for awhile since his gaze kept jumping from her legs to the tie between her covered breasts to her face and back again. His hair was a little messy from where she'd had her hands in it earlier, his lips kiss-swollen, and he was still almost all dressed with the exception of his tie and unfastened belt buckle.

He needed to get undressed. Now.

Gold swallowed and gave her one more once over, then muttered, "Oh _fuck_...I don't have any protection."

"I have a condom in my skirt pocket," she offered. A lot of her partners seemed to forget that the pill didn't do shit against STDs, so she'd taken to carrying her own protection around. "So maybe you should start taking some layers off?"

She didn't miss the hesitation, but Gold did shrug out of his jacket and unfastened some of his shirt buttons while she picked up her skirt. She fished out the little foil square and squirmed out of her underwear. There was a sound from Gold that made Lacey smile, and she came over to the couch again, back to straddling his lap. Gold's chest was tanner than she'd thought it would be, considering he never wore anything but Armani suits. And it was pleasantly smooth when Lacey slid a hand inside his shirt to touch.

Gold's eyes fluttered and he sighed. The whole aggressive-male type was usually Lacey's thing, but this was charming in it's own way. Sweet, really. She pressed a kiss to his unique nose, and smirked to feel his hands tentatively press against her hips. Slowly but surely, he cupped her ass in his large hands and pulled her closer as she untucked his shirt. She'd been teasing about the layers before, but damn it, her patience was short and his clothes were many.

She gut his shirt unbuttoned and Gold's hands left her skin to fumble with his flies. He was unzipped and Lacey rose up to allow him to shove his pants down enough for his erection to spring up. He wasn't monstrous, but one thing she knew for certain was that size didn't matter. Actually, she thought with a giggle, he was about the same width as her favorite vibrator. She wasn't going to say that because Gold didn't strike her as the most secure partner, so she reached under his shirt and pressed against him.

Who knew the Beast of Storybrooke was so cuddly?

Gold's arms went around her and even though it was probably mild torture to have her folds brushing over his length, he didn't to more than hold her, and nuzzle her hair.

"You're so beautiful," he murmured, one hand creeping lower. "So, so beautiful, my Lacey."

A shiver ran up her spine. Ooh, she liked that. Almost as much as his hand sliding between their bodies and down between her legs. Ooh! Yes, fuck, she loved that. Those swirling, stroking, roughened fingertips were just as clever as she suspected-Oh shit!

"Oh shit!" Lacey yelped, bucking when two digits slipped through her entrance. A heat started coiling in her belly and it was easy for Gold to chuckle when he wasn't on the verge of coming from a marvelous pair of fingers hitting all the right places.

"Pretty good, hmm?" Gold murmured. "Does that feel good, sweetheart? Do you want to come?"

"Yes!" she wiggled, trying to get his thumb to brush her clit. So close! So _fucking_ close! And she could have screamed when Gold pulled away-

If only he hadn't been reaching for the condom and trying to pull it open. Oh thank god! Lacey could feel his cock, hot and hard and she was too ready for him, so she could be forgiven for ripping the packet out his hands.

* * *

 

It didn't bear thinking about, how many years Gold had been celibate. Probably...ten years, at least. He couldn't quite open the condom packet, and so he didn't mind Lacey's sudden burst of impatience.

He had to think back to his shop and an antique clock he had to start repairing, or he'd come when she was just rolling the damned rubber on his cock. She gave the base a squeeze in a little place that kept him from imploding, and Gold heard a whimpering sob that, oh, had come from him. There was no time for embarrassment because Lacey kissed him, then his stubbly jawline, and nuzzled the side of his neck like a cat.

"Could you imagine doing this all three months?" she giggled, rubbing his cock between her legs until he was slick. "On that cot in the back?"

Gold growled, biting her shoulder. There was a little squeak from Lacey that he'd hold close to his heart forever after, even if this didn't last more than a night.

"Dearie," he clucked. "Community service means you are serving the community, not servicing my cock."

"Oh, so you mean you didn't think about it? Ever? Not even once?"

"Now when did I say that? I just mean working hours are for work, and after work...I could take you over my workbench until you scream."

The idea had merit, even Lacey seemed to agree from her soft little laugh. "You do love a loophole..."

He did. Boundaries made Gold comfortable...although Lacey's unbound personality was probably her biggest attraction. She was so free and open. "Racy Lacey", who could have anyone she wanted, and here she was on his sofa, taking him in hand and lining them up.

They both gave little moans of pleasure as she sank down on him. Oh god, she was so tight and hot and her nails were biting into his shoulders through his shirt, which had never been pushed off his arms, and _god!_

Gold kissed down Lacey's pale throat, nuzzling between her collar bones, moving lower to the tops of her breasts. Her hands slid into his hair, nails scratching his scalp, and a soft sigh tickled the top of his head. Lacey ground down, rather than rise up, and Gold's hips snapped up. He wasn't going to last long at all, oh, but what a two minutes it would be.

Gold tugged on Lacey's tank top, which he realized was more of a camisole. There was some kind of padding that meant Lacey didn't need a bra, and when one pink-tipped breast appeared over the neckline, Gold latched on to it eagerly. He'd lashed at her stiff nipple with his tongue until Lacey shoved his head back. It was on the tip of Gold's tongue to apologize when Lacey rose up on her knees and peeled off her top.

Oh god, she was naked in heels now, and that was all Gold registered before Lacey started riding him hard. Hard and fast and perfect.

One hand reached down to brush her clit, while he pressed the other one against her back for stability. Gold moved in and pressed kisses wherever he could place them on her flushed skin, and Lacey keened when he started bucking up to meet her. His head was spinning and nothing existed outside of this moment when Lacey's head flung back and her back arched, her nails raking down his bare chest as her inner muscles clamped around him.

Gold came a second after Lacey, colors exploding behind his eyelids and an undignified wail muffled against her throat. They fell to the side, tangled together in a hot, sweaty, tangled heap of limbs, and Gold couldn't remember ever feeling more content...

* * *

Lacey wondered if she was purring. She felt like she was purring, or that she should be, because she felt that good.

Gold was lazily rubbing her back, mouthing her breast now and then. Cuddling had never been very appealing to Lacey, it was boring, but perhaps she'd never been fucked properly because now she understood; Her body felt like an overcooked noodle and the only thing her brain wanted was to stay put and bask in the warm afterglow.

When her thoughts slowly started being put together, two things occurred to Lacey. One, Gold's shirt wasn't off his arms, and his pants were around his knees. It wasn't too odd, because usually Lacey didn't bother to move anymore than the necessary clothing. However...with ruffled silvery hair and a black silk shirt falling down his arms, Gold looked like a sexy silver fox in a Playgirl magazine. A well-fucked sexy silver fox, at that.

A burst of feminine pride swelled in Lacey, until she noticed that second thing: She was starving. They'd never actually gotten around to that dinner part of, well, dinner.

Gold kissed her forehead, distracting her for a moment.

"You okay?" he hummed, playing with a stray curl of her loose hair.

Lacey nodded, giving in and petting his own hair out of his deep brown eyes. He had beautiful eyes. And they looked at her...differently. Any man who was sweet to Lacey usually stopped being sweet at this point, but Gold kept staring at her like she'd performed a miracle. And, considering that to Lacey's knowledge, Gold hadn't been laid in years, maybe he thought she had. But-

At that pivotal moment, Lacey's stomach gave a cartoonish rumble.

Gold's face split into a relaxed grin, resting his hand on her belly. "I did promise you dinner, didn't I?"

"You can cook?"

"Well, I think sandwiches would be easier, don't you think?"

If Gold was going to keep grinning at her and stroking her skin like that, they wouldn't be making it to the kitchen. But then again...Lacey was _ravenous_. Plus, Lacey really liked Gold but his refractory period was probably a little longer than a few minutes. So sandwiches were excellent.

"Sounds good," she hummed, detangling herself enough to sit up.

Gold rolled upright and removed the condom. Lacey plucked it out his hand and stood up, striding over to a wastebasket and tossing it. She turned around and found Gold gawking at her.

"What?"

"You're, um..." Gold was in the process of tugging his trousers back up, but tugged on his shirt. "Do you want to...wear something?"

Lacey looked down, then grinned at him. "Why?"

"Well, you're, um-"

"Naked? No I'm not. I'm wearing heels." Lacey lifted one foot up, behind her, with her hands on her hips in a model-like pose. "See?"

Gold nodded woodenly, grabbing for his cane. "I see..."

Lacey sashayed by him towards the kitchen, feeling eyes on her back...and everywhere else.

Needless to day, after they ate, Gold gave her a tour of his bedroom and rather than her putting on clothes, he took his off again. And the tour ended under the covers of his bed. Three months was well worth the wait.

**Author's Note:**

> Requested by Evilsnowswan on Tumblr: “If you don’t get turned on by having your neck kissed somethings wrong with you.” Open to prompt/suggestions if you wanna see it expanded, enjoy your day/night/whatever!


End file.
